


Support System

by breeisonfire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e16 Illuminated, Feels, Gen, Panic Attacks, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spoilers, Stilinski Family Feels, illuminated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But now, he’s writing down the names of new girls he barely knows to send murderers after them. And he doesn’t remember doing it. And if he doesn’t remember doing that, what else could he have done?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support System

**Author's Note:**

> So after last night's episode, I got inspired by the little clip of Stiles in the hospital, with Melissa standing over him, and I set out to write a fic based off that. It didn't work. Instead I got this. This is a continuation of the episode last night, occurring directly after Stiles wrote the numbers on the board and realized it was his handwriting. It involves both the Stilinskis, and I would like to inform you all that I'm not an expert in panic attacks, so Stiles's is basically based off of what happens to me.
> 
> This was beta'd by my usual wonderful beta whatthehale and is completely separate from the Shutter 'verse. Enjoy!

See, the thing is that he’s _Stiles_. He’s human. He’s normal. He’s supposed to be the sidekick with the smartass remarks, the best friend, occasionally the getaway car. He’s supposed to be completely ordinary.

This? _This is not completely ordinary._ This is all kinds of fucked up. Because this means that he was the one who gave Barrow, a murderer, the name of his next victim. Forget the fact that Kira was some sort of supernatural creature and didn’t die, he could very well have been an accomplice in her murder. It’s only luck that he wasn’t. What if it had been someone more vulnerable? What if Kira hadn’t been some sort of supernatural creature who wasn’t hurt by electricity? She would be dead, and it would be Stiles’s fault.

He can’t remember doing it. He can’t remember doing this at all. It’s his handwriting, there’s no doubt about it. It explains why he’d thought it was familiar earlier. He would have focused on it more at the time, but they’d kind of been in a hurry. Now that he’s got time to stop and think about it, he knows it’s his.

And that’s terrifying. Because nightmares, not being able to read, sleep paralysis, that was all one thing, but at least that was only harmful to him. The people he loved weren’t going to get hurt if he couldn’t sleep through the night. And as long as it’s not hurting others, he’ll deal with it.

But now, he’s writing down the names of new girls he barely knows to send murderers after them. And he doesn’t remember doing it. And if he doesn’t remember doing that, what else could he have done? What if he’d lost time on his way over to the school to check it, and had hurt Scott, or his dad, or Lydia? What if there’s more like Barrow out there, waiting for instructions from Stiles? How is he supposed to know that he doesn’t have a long line of murderers ready to kill all his friends?

He realizes he’s hyperventilating. His chest hurts, and he wonders how long he’s been like this. He can’t trust himself anymore. He could have been standing there for minutes or for hours. He has no way to know. He stumbles backwards into the front table and slides to the ground, unable to hold himself up, he’s shaking so hard. He feels sick, the world is spinning around him and he can’t _focus_.

He knows he’s having a panic attack, knows he needs to calm down before he gets sick, or before someone comes and finds him there, but he can’t think of anything to do, he can’t remember what he’s supposed to do when he’s panicking, and he can’t stop thinking about the writing on the board. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around them, and rests his face on his knees, not wanting to face it. He blocks out the rest of the world.

It’s dark when he starts awake. He doesn’t recall falling asleep, and doesn’t know where he is for several moments before he recognizes the shape of the blackboard above him. He’s lying on his side, curled up in a ball, and he’s sore as hell, though he can’t exactly remember why. He’s not sure why he’s asleep at school, nor why he’s suddenly awake, until he hears the buzzing once more, and it all comes slamming back into him.

He sits bolt upright, and smacks his head on the desk next to him. That smack distracts him from the panic long enough to curse the desk. Holding his forehead with one hand, he digs his vibrating phone out of his pocket and looks to see who’s calling him.

**Incoming Call: Dad**

He pushes answer, lying back down on the floor.

“Hello?” he says. His voice is hoarse, and tired-sounding. Stiles can’t bring himself to care.

“Stiles?” his dad sounds horribly relieved. Stiles wonders how long he’s been trying to reach him. “Thank God. Where the hell are you?”

Stiles glances around. “I think I’m in my chemistry classroom.”

There’s silence for a second before his dad says, “Why are you in the chemistry classroom?”

Stiles doesn’t have the energy to lie to his dad. “I was trying to figure something out, had a panic attack, and fell asleep. I think.”

His dad is again quiet for a few seconds before he says, “Do you want me to come pick you up?”

Stiles’s dad is awesome. Stiles wants that very much. “Yes.”

“Don’t hang up, okay?” his dad says. Stiles can hear him heading out to the car, and takes comfort in the sound of his breathing. “Scott’s been calling me all day. Apparently you missed a lot.”

Stiles feels a brief flutter of curiosity at that, but he’s starting to feel numb and can’t really find it in him to be interested. “Yeah?”

“Apparently, they were all attacked last night at a blackout party held at Derek’s loft?” his dad says. “There were shadow people, and something to do with the number five. And Derek’s back in town. You’ll have to ask Scott for the full story. I didn’t follow half of it. He was worked up.”

“Great,” Stiles yawns. “Shadow people and the number five. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

“Oh, and Chris Argent’s in the hospital,” his dad continues. “He got attacked. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, feeling really slow. He blinks and says, “That sucks. Allison okay?”

“She’s pretty upset,” his dad says. “He’s in a coma. No one knows what attacked him.”

“Shadow people, probably,” Stiles mumbles. “Are the shadow people corporeal or did someone poison everyone with wolfsbane again?”

“ _Again_?” his dad asks.

“Oh, right, we haven’t told that story yet,” Stiles mutters. “It’s Peter’s fault.”

“I can’t tell if I want to know or not,” his dad says.

“I wish I didn’t know,” Stiles says. He wonders if his dad would get mad if he just fell asleep again.

“Anyway,” apparently his dad had decided to move on. “As far as I can tell, they’re corporeal. Because whether they’re all poisoned with wolfsbane or not, the fact is that Lydia, Isaac, Derek, and both the twins have marks behind their ears.”

“Marks?” Stiles asks, more out of habit than of actual curiosity. He’s pretty sure the flat tone conveys that perfectly.

“That’s where the number five comes in,” his dad says. Stiles hears the car shut off. “What are we going to do about your Jeep?”

“I’ll make Scott bring me back tomorrow,” Stiles says. “He owes me, anyway.”

“Would knowing why endanger my job?” his dad asks mildly.

“I think most of what I do would endanger your job,” Stiles sighs.

“Yeah,” his dad says. “At least I know you have a good reason for it.”

And what the hell is Stiles supposed to say to that? Especially given how he feels right now. He’s not sure what he’ll do if his dad notices the chalkboard. And there’s a very good chance he might. He thinks staying on the floor is a good idea. It’s easy and doesn’t require any energy from him.

“Alright, chemistry classroom,” his dad says, and Stiles hears the door to the room he’s in open.

“Yep, that should be right,” Stiles says.

“I don’t see you,” his dad’s voice comes from both the phone and over by the door.

“I’m on the floor,” Stiles says. He hears his dad’s footsteps, and then suddenly, he’s in Stiles’s view, looking down at him, a mixture of exasperation and concern on his face.

“Hi,” Stiles says.

“Hi,” his dad says. “How long have you been here?”

“What time is it?” Stiles asks.

His dad looks at his watch. “It’s nearing ten at night.”

“Oh,” Stiles thinks back to the time he remembered arriving at the school. That had been around six in the morning. “Sixteen-ish hours? I don’t know, I was mostly asleep for it all.”

His dad is giving him the familiar concerned adult look that Stiles hates so much. “Stiles.”

“Dad.”

“What happened?” his dad asks. Stiles can’t quite stop himself from looking at the board. Had it been anyone but his dad, he probably would have gotten away with it. But his dad is a police officer, and a damn good one, no matter what Agent McCall thinks, and he turns to the board.

It takes a minute for his dad to put together the meaning of what was on the board. “Is this the message for Barrow?”

“Yep.”

“That’s your handwriting.”

“It is indeed.”

“Stiles?” his dad looks down at him, his face a mixture of worry and his officer-of-the-law face. “Why is that your handwriting?”

Stiles looks at him. “I don’t know. I don’t remember writing it. I don’t remember any of it. I didn’t even notice it was my handwriting when Lydia and I found it. I don’t know why I would set Barrow after Kira. I didn’t even know her at that point. I don’t know why my subconscious decided to be an accomplice in her murder.”

He can feel how hysterical he sounds at the end of that sentence, and if he had the energy to, he would have covered his face. Instead, he just squeezes his eyes shut. He feels like he’s somehow exploding with the things he’s kept inside, and he can’t do that. He just can’t. Not now, especially, when he already sounds like he’s lost all shreds of sanity.

“Stiles,” he senses rather than sees his dad sitting down next to him. He feels his dad put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “I believe you.”

Stiles feels some of the numbness dissolve at that, replaced by relief. He hadn’t realized how afraid he’d been of his dad not believing him this time, when it was most crucial, until it wasn’t a problem anymore. He opens his mouth to say something, and accidentally lets out a sob. He snaps his mouth close, his eyes still squeezed shut. His dad doesn’t say anything, just squeezes his shoulder again, and Stiles fights for control. He’s almost tempted to just give in, to just break down right there, but he can’t, not yet. So he pulls himself as together as possible at the moment.

“You didn’t think I’d believe you?” his dad says, almost as if to himself. Stiles lets out a choked laugh.

“No offense, Dad, but you don’t exactly have a good track record at that,” he says. He feels his dad wince.

“I deserve that,” his dad admits. “I’m still new to this. God, kid, this just makes me feel out of my depths.”

“You’re not the only one,” Stiles mutters.

“Yeah,” his dad says, nudging his shoulder. “But while some of us are struggling to swim, you seem to have gotten the hang of it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles snorts, opening his eyes. “That’s why I’m currently lying on the floor of chemistry classroom.”

“Hey, even the most put-together people have off days,” his dad says. “But whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

Stiles doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods. He can’t even begin to describe how important it is to him to have his dad say that. How important it is to him that his dad believes him. That he doesn’t just doubt him again.

“So, what do you think?” his dad asks. Stiles looks and sees him staring at the board.

“I don’t even know what to think anymore,” Stiles says. “I’m just _tired_.”

He almost misses the way his dad’s face spasms in pain for a second before he hides it. Before he can even ask about it, his dad is standing, and erasing the numbers and letters on the board. Then he turns to Stiles, and he holds a hand out. Stiles takes it and allows his dad to pull him to his feet. Before his dad can do anything else, Stiles gives into his impulse and grabs his dad in a hug. He tries to put as many unsaid things into it as he can. How he appreciates his dad, how he’s glad he believes him, and grateful that he’s willing to help him. He thinks from the way his dad pats his back that he understands it.

And then they turn towards the door and walk out, and if they’re walking closer together than normal, neither of them point it out.


End file.
